@Remi Lièvremont | @Antumbralite Violet wasn't sure how long the OPA crew had been gone since she'd been moved to the clinic deep in the belly of the Io station, tucked away between the proper levels. Her condition was mostly stable though Sparrow insisted that she stay in bed, not that Violet was in any position to argue -- she could barely summon the strength necessary to lift her head off the pillow. The hair at the nape of her neck was itchy and starting to get tangled from the sweat and being constantly pressed against the coarse fabric. To call it irritating was putting it lightly. She'd only just started to drift into another restless sleep when the relative quiet of the clinic was horrendously interrupted. Nearly a dozen people burst through the door. A cacophony of raised voices, wails of frightened children, the indistinguishable groans of injured men and women filled the small space at once. The scent of wet blood choked the air nearly causing Violet to gag. Her senses were quickly overwhelmed from the harsh transition and her brain struggled to make any sense of what was happening. At first, she didn't immediately recognize any of the faces. She tried to sit up a little in the bed, forcing her trembling arms to support her weight so that she could get a better view of what was going on around her. A small group had clustered around a particular bed and Violet could see the vivid purple of Sparrow's hair while she tended to whoever it was who'd been the worst off. The others who weren't as seriously wounded were guided to their own beds. Where's Remi? Where's Keith? Wren? Her mind scrambled to find a face that she knew. The crowd around the bed at the opposite end of the clinic parted briefly, and Violet caught a glimpse of familiar tattoos -- Wren. Her stomach twisted painfully at the sight, but she still couldn't find Remi or Keith. When her green eyes finally found a familiar face, it wasn't relief that washed over her, but a bone-chilling fear. Doctor Cardinale stood in the middle of the room, apart from the crowd. There was blood on his smock and hands, but he stood perfectly still, staring at Violet with a wide grin on his thin face. His glasses were slightly askew on his nose and his wispy pale hair stuck out in every direction. If she didn't know better, he would have been rather comical to look at ... but instead, he was menacing. "They really do have you..." He whispered, stepping towards her. "Thank god."